this might sound strange but

the problem is that i like myself, as is.

i think the source of a lot of confusion/stress/irritation in my life is that I'm satisfied with the way I look, the way I do things and who I am. I like love myself. This is not to say that I'm perfect, and am never insecure or unhappy. What I'm saying is that the core of who I am, and how I represent and present myself I'm cool with. 

So, the problem enters when people are always telling me how I can be better, how

I need to "girl it up"

I'm always downplaying my looks

how I need to wear make up, curl my hair, put on more jewelry, carry a pocketbook, heels, smile false

how I had all that hair and just cut it off and now I look hard

backhanded compliments. you're a beautiful girl but you act like you're scared, you should do this that and the third. thank you for the complient, but you can save the rest---

I was always confused about when people say things like, "before I knew you, you used to confuse me. i didn't understand how such a pretty girl could be so unhappy." And this thing is kind of a new struggle for me. I've gotten past wondering why I'm not the president of five different organizations, saving the world, working somewhere impressive, and getting straight As. That's not what I want to do right now and not quite where I want my life to be.

But this "girly" "womanly" thing---I'm just realizing that it's because being pretty has never been a source of identity for me. putting on make-up, painting my nails, having long hair, the works whatever- that doesn't make me happy. so it doesn't mean anything. i like putting together a nice outfit just as much as the next person, and every once and a while I'll wear eyeliner and mascara but that's pretty much it.

the puzzle now is, according to these people this is probably why I'm alone. there's no such thing as someone liking you for who you are... I rebuke it. Lately, it's a constant struggle to believe that one day I'll be more than enough for someone- sans make-up, my true face and whatever hairstyles i go through and all.

All I want to be is me. With time, maybe all that other stuff will start to matter to me, and that's fine. But, I need to do it on my own time.

This whole girl-woman thing is wild to me. Becoming a woman, which I would love to just translate to autonomous adult, it seems to be about so many things that don't come natural to me- the primp & priss, the desire/joy to cook for my family, decorate, etc. Hearing and reading theories and essays is one thing, and I've usually agreed, but feeling it is a whole 'nother thing. And it's ugly. I shouldn't have to question how much of a woman I am by these standards. In time I'm sure wanting to be a family will be more important to me, maybe I'll want to make a guy drool by how I look... but as for now, I just want to be happy. And it's not coming from these places, practices and ideas.

absence makes the heart grow fonder

now, i had been taking a break from my guitar because i randomly found the thumbs on each of my fingers twitching... meaning hey, maybe i should chill out. so i did. but this weekend i got tired of chilling out. originally i said i would wait until i got lessons and could be with a person that knows what they're doing so i could ask questions and be told the right posture and how to hold the guitar and strings with my left hand. WELL, guess what? I'm briizzzzoke. So, instead i'm just gonna spend a little less time each little practice YouTube/internet/library book session I do and try to listen to my body and watch for bad stuff. Also, I need to get some upper body strength. Haha.

So, because I can't get the song out of my head, I've decided the first song I'm gonna learn how to play is that song you see a couple posts below. Mmhm. And this nice white man is gonna teach me :)

My first worry was, "Oh no, I don't have a CAPO" *signal young Macaulay Caulkin face in Home Alone after he smacks himself in the face (with the aftershave?) in the mirror* But guess what y'all? The internet is sometimes grand, and i found out i can make one with a pencil and some rubberbands here. Great. I started learning it. I'm actually probably trying to do entirely too much at once considering I'm learning how to play the chords and the songs at the same time and i don't even quite have calluses yet but it's all good. Haha. So yeah. Look out for that.

And maybe after I learn how to play it well enough I'll have the balls to post a video. But that would involve me singing, which is a whole 'nother beast 'cause I ain't nobody's Hayley Williams. Maybe it'll just be my own "private joy" ;)

Anywho! This is the happy post I had figured would come along at the end of that other entry. Sure did :)

you better climb into one ear, through my head/brain/mind and come out the other ear with this song!

The return of Blossom Dearie with ...
(to my blog, 'cause you know, I posted her rendition of "Try Your Wings" here )
                 

"You've Got Something I Want"

um, so...

 i love it. 
  the end.

except... P.S. I'm also feeling this one: Everything I've Got Belongs to You 

the title of this post don't quite apply to this song, but i still think it's great.

in the summertime

i like to pretend i can draw. 

well, pretty much anytime there's a break from school and i see something i find strange or i like.

mmhm.

one of those other things i wanna learn how to do. eventually. soon.

and for some reason i saw this in the ceiling

because it was pleasant when it showed up on my shuffle:

and i'm just feelin this song right now.
"got me in a liplock
don't
let
gooOo"

probably overdu.e

There’s something that happens when someone dies that makes you want to stand still. The logical response to a too early death is to go out and do all that you can because tomorrow is not promised and all that really matters is that you live like today is your last and like you’re not afraid because there’s nothing to really be afraid of at all of this can be gone tomorrow and everything like that

But when my friend died, I was just stunned. It was a little over a year ago and I still don’t know how I feel about it. Every time I come home, every time I catch the L bus, am by Olney Terminal, Vernon Road, the 18 or when I got off the bus a little early last week cause some middle aged man was staring at me rather creepily and I unknowingly got off at his block and was less alive for a couple minutes. I have this theory I don’t have many tears left. There have been a couple times this year where I’ve cried hard but not nearly as many times as I could if I was able to cry, maybe the way I need to, every time the tears are coming.

It doesn’t help when a stranger dies. I mean someone you know, but you don’t know the way everyone else knows them. And you have no memories to share with other people to smile and laugh. All I have is confusion about the person I don’t really know how to classify. And, whether I should’ve been more open. Or if I was justified. Or what I’m really scared to believe, which is that we were both just scared and young… and what I’m convinced on believing, that it was my fault for always being so distant with men. But, really and I don’t mean to excuse it, I’m just a product of my environment.

I try hard, everyday, to believe that there’s more for me than what I’ve seen my mother, grandmother, even little sister, friends and everything go through. black women.  And I didn’t realize until I got to college that I have to make an effort to believe that I have to work at believing in love, in people sometimes being worth trusting, in opening my heart and being vulnerable. It always just seemed like this thing that lucky and stupid people get to do.

Now, I’m reminded everyday that I’m alone. And I like it. That it’s safe. And when I’m alone I don’t have to answer to anybody. Whether I’m alone in a room in my house and hoping no one calls me to do anything or I don’t have to hear anyone breathe or cough or if I’m just walking down the street in Center City going wherever I feel like going at any moment. I don’t have to die a little, risking learning something new from someone and them leaving, or never really being there the way I’d like. And I don’t have to wonder if this time I should talk a little more or jump a little higher, because when I’m alone the answer is always yes. And it’s for me and no one else, and if it’s what I want how could it ever be a risk? How could I ever be hurt? How could I ever waste years, have to analyze it later, carry it with me?

I don’t know what it’s like to feel like you can’t live without somebody. All I knew for sure growing up is that things end. Or as I was convinced, were never really there. I saw beautiful (to the core) women left and disregarded and I figured it was my fate. I know now things are a little more complex than that. That these women aren’t perfect and play a role in their relationships as well but I’m still convinced they deserve love. I still believe I deserve love.

I still don’t know how to handle the meantime. Because even when you find someone that stirs up so much inside of you, you’re still individuals right? You still both have dreams, you have to live without each other for at least a couple hours out of the day, you have to still live and seek and do. I should be doing the living and seeking and doing, but I feel so full and I don’t know of what.

When I found out that people really die at 20, someone in my life—however confusing that relationship might have been and still is, such that I didn’t know if I deserved to cry when I found out that he died—could die, this new thing happened where I couldn’t understand why I should do anything other than what I really want or need in the moment or really what I can do to stay leveled, to stay okay, to not be extreme, to not lose control or to not be obsessed with perfection or what other people want. At a point in my life where I was already confused about why any of what I had or was doing mattered, because  I wasn’t happy and I wasn’t thriving and I didn’t have all the answers everyone else seemed to have, I found out that maybe I would never get a chance to matter. Maybe I’ll be stopped midbook, mid journey, mideffort, midfoundation for enough love to cut my bullshit and fear infinitesimal and swept away. I didn’t understand what matters in life.

I know that I won’t meet or find anyone or anything new if I don’t leave my room or what I’ve always known and I’ve been trying. I’ve been trying to do the things that I always wanted to do, to be the person I’ve always wanted to be but it takes longer than I imagined. And it should right? You can’t live your whole life and make your whole impact in the amount of years you’re at now cause that’s how you die, right? because of all the life in your years? because you’ve done all you were supposed to… and you don’t even know what you’re supposed to do. you have no warnings. you don’t know if you went to this show or caught this bus or got this job, chose this school over the other where you’d be. if it’d be better. if there’s such a thing as better.

I don’t know how to get all of that out of my head.

I’m sure it’s there so I’ll cut out all of my bullshit and fear, and extra time taking and excuses. 

I cut through it better now after he’s dead

but all the unknown, and wishing I knew what steps to take to get to happiness

knowing what I need to do to get things done and not being able to move or focus or 

understand why I have to or knowing why and it still not being enough to stop me from what 

I’d rather be doing

wondering why everyone is so normal and I’m not and not knowing where that’s gonna take me but still trying to trust it

*pretending to be normal

I just wanna move

to have that jolt that starts it all up

and soars

and not so many starts and stops

and so much uncomfortability about what to do with the love that is around me that I don’t know how to feel

because I know what it looks like

and I know it’s not enough

not even for them

and I don’t know how to give better

or how to not feel so ugly about not knowing how to receive

or having so many lists of overdue things

and to do things

and being so bad at crossing them off

or how bad it feels in the meantime, when you don’t even know you’re on your way to checking ‘em off.

I’m sure I’ll have something happy to say in a couple of days. 

thank you Nailah ;)

 or you could click it, and not watch it cut off.
(and a lil unrelated to the subject matter, i'm taken with her hair color)

this post is a reminder

to myself to not tone myself down. i mean, in practice. in real life. conversations. and even in writing (yes, even where i do it the least). errthang. it is a challenge, but necessary

1) because of all the trite make sense deep thangs like, "life is too short"
2) because i don't like lying. and i'm lying even when i use a period, instead of an exclamation point.